Walking 10km, Police, Churches

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday evening I walked about 10km (6 miles) again.  There’s not a whole lot to see on this route since it is mostly residential but I felt I had to take pictures of something so I took pictures of churches that I passed by.  

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I came to realize that there a lot of churches within a square mile.  If I had to estimate, I would say there is about 10.  There are as many churches as anything else and maybe more.  I would say their numbers are similar to gas stations.

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This church looks much nicer.  It was only 3 blocks away from the other one.  

My walk took me closer to a more bustling area where there is a big shopping mall, restaurants and other shops.  As I was walking, a police officer was creeping towards me in his car and staring in my direction.  He put on his lights and pulled over.  I was waiting for the light to turn green when he got out, pointed at me and said, “hey you!”  

Me: Me?

Cop: Yes

Me: What’s going on?

Cop:  So were you just coming from that restaurant over there?

Me: I walked by there

Cop: Just walking by? What happened?

Me: I don’t know, I was just walking by

Cop: I know it was you so just tell me what happened

Me: I was just walking by.  You got the wrong guy

Cop: You didn’t go inside?  You didn’t go inside yelling and screaming?

Me: No.  I looked inside but that’s it

Cop: What did you see inside?

Me:  I don’t know.  People having a good time?

Cop: And did that make you angry?

Me: What? Haha.   No

Cop: I know it was you so tell me what happened

Me:  I was just walking by.  I don’t know what else to say

Cop:  Why were you looking inside?

Me:  I don’t know.  Same reason why I would look inside this furniture store?

By this time 3 other cops have pulled over while the first guy goes into his car looking my information up.  He comes out a few minutes later and keeps pushing the “I know it was you” line.  

“You matched the description”  After they received another description from the manager of the restaurant, the cop decided that it probably wasn’t me.  

Cop: Thanks for your cooperation.  When I saw you, you looked kind of jittery.  You should have waved hello or something.

Me: That’s kind of weird.  Who does that?

Cop: Some people do

Whatever.  That was his way of redeeming himself for that retarded interrogation.  But I guess if I had done something that interrogation may have been effective.  The whole situation became more comical than anything.  I should have pulled the race card just for fun.  “Can’t a yellow man walk down the street without getting harassed by the po-leece.  Damn!”

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As I walked off the same guy walked after another young looking guy.  Apparently he matched the description as well even though he was Latino and way bigger than me.  I could hear him giving the “I know it was you” line to him.  I suppose they had some reason to be all serious since someone was shot at that restaurant earlier this year.  

My life is kind of uneventful these days so I sort of welcomed that interaction.  I had all the time in the world.  Hopefully no one I knew saw me because I would automatically look guilty just like when a guy gets accused of raping a girl.  

On a lighter note, on my way back home I ordered ice cream.  It was much bigger than I wanted.  I felt like I wasted some of the benefits from all my walking.  It wasn’t even that good.  Oh well?

 

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There is a chocolate factory pretty close to my place.  They have this fountain that is constantly running.  If you were a homeless person you would be tempted to hang around there for hydration and possible sanitation purposes.  I myself may stop off there for a drink of water one day if I’m desperate enough.  I bet you people pee in that fountain.

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You would be hard pressed to find a better place on the streets to wash your face

This is the last church of the night.

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Apparently there is free food and drinks on Aug 30th.  I may drop by and hang out with Jesus for a while.  This walking stuff is quite enjoyable.  If you have a lot of time on your hands and not much to do, walking works.  When you drive, you get to your destination and back fairly quickly which could leave you with the question of, ‘now what should I do?’  We never think of walking when we have a car because it is like using only 1 hand when you have 2.  It is not very motivating to live a disabled life when you are not disabled.  

 

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Having a Choice

The option of having a choice would seem better than to not have any.  The downside of having more than one option is that you have to think and sometimes think yourself to insanity.  Even when a decision is made there is still the looming thought of, ‘did I make the right decision?’  Then there is the possibility of the dreadful, ‘I think I made the wrong decision’ or ‘I definitely made the wrong decision.’  It seems that the only thing worse than making a bad decision in life is having to live with it.

I have always had issues with making decisions.  There always seemed to be so many options but also none that were very desirable.  There were hardly any times when it was a no brainer.  Not knowing for sure what you want and not knowing for sure what you do not want, leaves you in a state of paralysis.  If you want to be a millionaire and nothing less is acceptable then your only options are the ones that have the potential to make you a millionaire regardless of the risks.  The choice becomes much easier.

If you want this but would settle for that but you are also scared of this then you just threw yourself in a dark forest.  We all like to think that living in a more primitive part of the world would leave us miserable because of the very few options that would be available to us but I think it could easily be a better life.  You don’t think as much of what you should have done, could have done and how your life would be better now if you zigged instead of zagged.  Instead of blaming yourself you tell yourself that there was nothing you could have done which leaves you in peace instead of internal warfare.

So many people have a problem with what they want to do with their lives.  There are so many options when it comes to a career.  Would it not be better if your only option was to be a blacksmith or some other smith and if you didn’t want to do it then you would starve?  Depends I guess, but you wouldn’t blame yourself for being a blacksmith.  You had no choice.

I doubt that I would really care if I lost my job.  The issue is how I lose it.  Does some greater power force it on me or do I march into my boss’s office with a metaphorical knife that is my resignation letter to sever the tie that would otherwise be left unscathed if it were not for my own actions.  The other night I was out and I knew for sure my blood alcohol level would cost me my driver’s license and my job if I had to take a breathalyzer.  A part of me wanted to get caught.  Kind of like a person who spent their whole life in prison and when they get out, they do not really care if they went back in.  They might even prefer it.  If I lost my job in this manner, the feeling of regret would be less likely.  So now you think I am a dickhead for drinking and driving.  Don’t worry, I was so high that night that the effects of alcohol were non-existent.

Whenever you make what appears to be the wrong decision, there is always the rationalization that it was your fault.  You should have known.  Why were you so scared?  How could you have been so foolish?  You were way in over your head. Unless of course you are the type that never blames yourself for anything.

There is sort of a liberation in making a bad choice though.  You put yourself in a position that gives you only one choice.  You have no other options so you make the best of it.  Your mind does not wander to the impossibilties but only to the have to’s so you can say, ‘oh well.’

I think often the best choice is the one your heart wants instead of the choice that can be best rationalized by fear because it would really suck if you made a choice against your heart and on top of that, it didn’t work out.

Blackie

I am sort of reading Roger Ebert’s memoir right now.  This radio show I listen to was talking about it and I thought it could be interesting reading a book written by a person who knows he doesn’t have long to live.  I have skipped a lot of chapters because much of the material does not suit my taste but there was this one chapter that hit home with me.  The following pictures are from his book, Life Itself.

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Coincidentally, I also had a dog named Blackie when I was a teenager.  Maybe it is not a coincidence though if a lot of people name their dog Blackie.  I had just moved back in with my mother and I guess I asked for a dog.  I remember that I really wanted one. We went to the local dog shelter and for whatever reason I chose Blackie.  

Blackie wasn’t trained very well.  In the first couple days we had him, he chewed up my new shoes and also ate all the muffins that were on the kitchen counter.  The dog loved me though.  Blackie was so happy to have a home.  There was one big issue though.  Blackie did not like my mother or anyone else really.  He would growl at her and it obviously made my mother uncomfortable.  

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I went out one day with my friends.  I stayed the night at one of my friends because I now lived a few suburbs away. When I arrived home, Blackie was gone.  They took him back to the dog pound while I was away.  I cried that night.  All I had left from the dog was his scent on my bedroom carpet.  I am not sure if I had the dog for even a week.  

People always tell me it is okay to leave a dog at home for 9 hours by itself while you are away at work.  I just don’t agree, not 5 days of the week anyway.  So I guess until I stop working full time, I am not getting a dog.  

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Me and my Blackie when I was 14 years old.

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Ebert’s Blackie

Slash in Vancouver

I am absolutely convinced that it is not possible to have any vivid memories from a concert.  I try my best to capture a moment so I can take something home with me but it doesn’t happen.  It’s not the drugs or alcohol either that cause this failure because I have gone to concerts sober as well.  

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I didn’t even know there was a Hard Rock franchise here. It’s a casino/hotel with a theatre.

This picture was taken after the concert was over but before the concert it would have been the same picture with a brighter sky.  They tell you the concert starts at 8pm but it never really does until an hour later.  For that hour or 2 before people just drink alcohol. I went into the casino to get a beer.  $7.50 for a bottle of Heineken!  I didn’t care how much cleavage she was showing, I wasn’t going to throw anything in her tip jar. For what?  Handing me a bottle of overpriced beer?  Plus I knew I wasn’t going back.  

After doing a random check in my pockets, I got that feeling that you get when you think you lost your wallet.  Except I don’t carry a wallet but I didn’t feel my car keys.  I felt like an idiot because I had just arrived 10 minutes ago.  I know I had them because I remember arming my car.  I remember thinking how amazing it was that I remembered that I armed my car.  But even more amazing is that the lost and found already had my keys in their possession.  

I just ended up walking around for a bit, looking at old people gamble their kids inheritance away before I decided to go into the concert. 

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There were a lot slutty looking middle aged white women who probably used to touch themselves while thinking about Axl Rose.  The thing I hate about being at a standing section with a bunch of white people is that I’m shorter than most of them. There should be a handicap section for me somewhere near the front.  I am kind of exaggerating for entertainment purposes because the view was still pretty decent.  I think if I was tall, I would still complain because I would feel bad for standing in front of people.   

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He is almost godlike in that he gets to always wear a top hat and sunglasses everywhere he goes.

Halfway through the concert I was really high and for whatever reason it seemed like everyone else was having more fun too. I don’t remember anything very vividly from the concert but I remember that I was there and I had a really good time.   

I will leave you with this short video clip that I took

Did You Know Robin Williams?

Chances are you never met the guy or anyone he knew but you know for sure that he committed suicide because of his severe depression.

We live in an age where everyone is on the, ‘don’t believe anything the media says’ bandwagon but so many people are doing just that in this case.  The only thing that has been said is that it appears that he killed himself and that he was recently suffering from severe depression.  It was never reported that he killed himself because he was suffering from severe depression.

How do you know that he didn’t have a whole bunch of other issues going on his life?  Some people want to quickly believe that it was only depression that caused his suicide and not anything else.  Maybe, but we don’t know.  He made a lot of money but he didn’t live a completely fairy tale life.  He’s been divorced twice, both ending in big settlements.  He stated not too long ago that he was having money troubles.   Whether it’s true or not, who knows but he said it.  Most recently, his wife stated he was in the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease.  Perhaps his suicide was a tactical move on his part.  Maybe he felt his earning ability now, could not surpass his life insurance pay out.  Maybe he felt that life sucked because it actually sucked.  Maybe he just rationalized that is was a good time to die.  We don’t know.

It’s often difficult to know why anyone does anything they do especially if they don’t want you to find out.  Think about how your closest friends and family often have no idea what’s going on in your life or in your head.  Even when people tell you personal things, they don’t tell you everything.

The feminists argue that pure misogyny as the main motive for the Santa Barbara murders because it’s what they wanted to believe.  Everyone who believes they are suffering from depression wants to believe Robin Williams killed himself solely because of his depression.  The idea is that his depression was so bad that it destroyed his perfect life.  What better opportunity are you going to have as an example on how serious and real, depression is?

I’m not saying his depression did not contribute to his suicide but as far as we know, it could have been other factors as well.   And we may never know the truth.  Unless if you knew him or someone close to him then you don’t really know either.

Chinese Buns

Chinese buns are the equivalent to..hmmm.  I don’t know what it would be the equivalent to in the western world.  Rice is the equivalent to potatoes.  Soya sauce would be the equivalent to ketchup. I suppose Chinese buns would be the equivalent to donuts or danishes or something between a donut and a sandwich.

It is super common to walk into a Chinese home and see a box of Chinese buns.  It is just something that gets picked up over the weekend while grocery shopping.  

Last week, during work, I was hungry in the afternoon and decided to pick one up from one of the few bakeries in my area.  The first one I walked into didn’t get my money because the Chinese woman at the front counter grossed me out.  Between customers she would shovel greasy noodles in her mouth.  It was mainly witnessing the greasy noodles getting shoveled into her mouth that turned me off but being fat and grumpy looking didn’t help either.  I couldn’t imagine her caring about anything that she sold so I took off out of there.  I went to the place just around the corner and bought a BBQ pork bun for $1.

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There are many kinds of Chinese buns.  They are almost like crepes in that some are more savoury like this one but many are sweet like pineapple buns and coconut buns which don’t have any pineapple or coconut but instead an impersonated flavour.

If you have never tried any Chinese buns I think that you would like them.  There is nothing freaky about the taste or texture.  Many white people that I have spoken to have reported to like them.  It’s possible they were just saying that though because they were scared to be mistaken as a racist.

The KKK once catered one of their meetings with Chinese buns.  Okay, maybe not.  

I have a feeling that this post will generate some hits from disappointed people who are looking for pictures of Chinese rear ends to masturbate to.  Who knows, maybe they will settle for this. 

 

Walking 10 km For Shits and Giggles and a Crepe

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The above excerpt from Mike Tyson’s autobiography was what inspired me to walk 10 km (6 miles) on Saturday.  I had a craving for a crepe but the only places in this city that offer crepes are in the nicer part of town.  I guess crepes aren’t for low class people.  My plan was to take the train down there and walk it back.  It’s a 10-15 minute train ride and about 2.5 hour walk back. While on the train ride this seemingly sexyish girl got on the train.  She was about 5 foot 2 inches, wearing a nice dress, big sunglasses and she was showing off her tattoos on both arms.  I started staring at her hand cause it was the closest part to me because she was holding the pole.  Her hand looked pretty big.  I was thinking if she punched me, she could inflict some decent pain.  They looked like hammers.  I mean, they weren’t just big, they looked strong too.  I started looking at her tattoos after and I noticed how hairy her arms were but the size of her forearms caught my attention.  Again, they weren’t just big, they looked dense too.  Hmmm..I think she is a he!  Trickery.  I started staring at his breasts and that pretty much convinced me she was a he because she/he was pretty flat chested.  No picture.

It was a busy day downtown.  Sunny weather, lots of people out, street bands, food trucks.  You know, a scene for good times for normal people. So I get this Nutella and Banana crepe but also get upsold to add nuts and Grand Marnier.  High class!  It was a rip off.

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Looks kind of gross.  Sorry.  I felt kind of bad for throwing down so much sugar in one sitting but it motivated me to walk.  I pretty much took off after eating my crepe.

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I could not agree more

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A few dogs jumped over this ledge so they put up a sign

 

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This is where the rainbow ends

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This is a house made from what looks like a desk, 2 pallets and other stuff.

 

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A couch made of something with colourful tiles glued on.

A couch made of something with colourful tiles glued on.

 

It is kind of cool how there are random water fountains.  Well, it is not that random really since it is on a bike path.

It is kind of cool how there are random water fountains. Well, it is not that random really since it is on a bike path.

 

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Another one and it is midget/dog friendly.

 

You can pick up some donuts after buying a plunger and use that plunger after eating the donuts

You can pick up some donuts after buying a plunger and use that plunger after eating the donuts

 

This walk was good exercise but it was also very meditative.  After half an hour to an hour, you start to feel a physical effect.  You keep walking and it becomes difficult for any negative thoughts to penetrate your mind.  You might think of them but they don’t stick around.  They say exercising is a very good anti-depressant and it makes sense.  Unfortunately, it’s easier to pop a pill than it is to do moderate exercise all day.  I always feel good after exercising.  I think I’d like to do this more often.  I like it because it’s a brainless activity, free, enjoyable and it gives me justification to eat something not so good for me beforehand.